Tuni bulb evening

So I’ll always be a little bit crazy, just like you’ll always be a little bit dog-eared. It’s an unlikely meeting of sorts but stranger things have happened. This coming year I vow not to wallow in unproductiveness, and I vow to do things, and say things, and feel things without feeling ashamed about them. I’ve been making progress this year, mostly as a sort of fuck it, what-the-hell response to any shred of embarrassment or cringing that happens. It’s yielded mostly good results, but this coming year I’m going to stop feeling less valid. Whatever is not a reasonable response to life, your face is not a reasonable response to life, but I’m glad it exists. Just taking a breather and putting my hat on at an angle and setting forth without a care, with a “we’ll see”, and genuinely not thinking about it anymore has never been my style. I mean it’s been my style in general with adventuring and things, but life’s too goddamn important, y’know? Only this is life too, all the adventuring and whynot and it all wraps up together, not neat but all lumpy.

What I’m saying is, there’s a new year coming. It’s going to be full of new people, and new places, and new feelings and discoveries. I’m a little scared, to be honest. I’m a little less rootless than you said. I’ve always been a wanderin’ but I’ve always been searching for somewhere to – what I’m saying is I’ve been sinking my roots into people. You’re wrong, y’know; the tendrils slowly creeping around your ankles say so.

I read a cummings the other day, and I spoke to someone from the past the other day. It was all just a little strange, just a little familiar, just a little life. 

Look, here is what I’m grateful for: a song, the memory of an eye, shots of milk and airmail-borne-understanding. The best things are not always the most obvious.

What I’m saying is, I’ll probably always be a little bit confused, but I’m a little less confused this year, and one of the things is gratitude. I found a piece of writing the other day from earlier this year and it was bursting to the seams with urgency and realness but I couldn’t remember this thing I’d written about. I looked beneath my collarbone, and there it was, a black dot, but I’d thought that was you. Perhaps I’d confused you and me, perhaps I’d dipped too far in and made a mess and couldn’t separate anymore. Bits of you trailing out and seeping in and making new colours.

I read an old email the other day. It wasn’t from you, it was another you at another time, and another me, only half-present. I was worshipped then, but the words ‘love of my life’ do not roll off the tongue easy. They sound untrue and make one uncomfortable. Life isn’t fair, and it moves on, and has a laugh. Look, I’m laughing. Look, I’m here. Look you’re here too. I hope you’ve come to stay.

Very old tag- because I have nothing but time on my hands

A is for annie hall, apple pie, amsterdam, adda, Abba, Azad Hind

B is for brishti, binuni, bichana, breakfast, bhaja(deem,alu,phoolkopi,begun), begunbhaja, Beatles, bangali, bhaath, bhaat, bokuni, Buckley(Jeff), blog, biology, beer, Bukowski

C is for cool, christmas, chocolate, Cohen, climbing, caramelized, crazywoman, Calcutta, chhaath, chingri maach, Cyprus, chicken noodle soup, chop, cheese, codbel, chaa, coffee

D is for diplodoccus, dhop, deem, doodh, dollars, Dylan(Bob), dolna, dhaba

E is for emptiness, ennui, empathy, exaggeration, elephantiasis, egg sixtyfive, email

F is for fortune, foolish, firang, Friday, familiarity, fondness, facebook, Feist

G is for gossip, girl, Goodnight, golmorich, gobet, golpo, gaan, gol-mukh, 'Grace', GeorgeHarrison, guava, goja, Greece

H is for hobo, hirak raja'r desh'e, halaal, harami, 'Heroin', hello, 'Hallelujah', halud, happiness, Hungary

I is for ipecac, India, imbue, ilish maach

J is for joke, jam, julep, jealousy, JustinBua, J.J Cale, jerk, Japan, juice

K is for kangaroo, koala-toque, kutta, "kitne aadmi the?", khichuri, khopa

L is for Lennon, ludo, life, lyangto, london, lighter, love, letter

M is for Ma, madhu, mishti, moon, Murakami, morbid, mixee, mud, madness, mantra, mutton-biryani

N is for nandan, natak, nightie, Neelu, nordoma, New York, Neruda

O is for orange, oxford, octopus, Orwell(George), onion

P is for Plath(Slyvia), Pink Floyd, pujo, phonecall, Paris, P.G Wodehouse, pictures, peanut butter

Q is for Queen

R is for Riddhi, Rebecca, Rome, run.

S is for ships, sails, sorcery, summer, saturday, science, Schenectady, sale, sex, Sunderbans

T is for Tinkle, toonibulb, time, telescope, Terry Pratchett, Toronto, trains.

U is for ulu, uluberiya

V is for Velvet Underground, vintage

W is for Waits(Tom), Wasseypur, Woody Allen, Wes Anderson

X is for (e)x.

Y is for Yeti, Yemen.

Z is for Zazou.

Annual End of Year Reflection

Look, I'm not cool. My list is rambling and long and doesn't have vague, funny answers because I actually like to come back to these things. Okay.

1. What did you do in 2012 that you'd never done before?

2012's been a helluva year for new things. I'll try to list as many as I can remember.

-had someone i knew very well die an untimely, unnatural death

- smoked up

-drunken mistake number 1,2,3,4,50

-learned how to grind (yesreally)

-went on a pubcrawl

-been kissed multiple times by multiple women

-been in the middle of a terrible split, come out of it relatively unscathed

-bagged an internship at harvard; come jan, i will be moving to boston/ the states for the very first time

- lost complete faith and confidence in myself 

- stayed over at a proper sleepover party (thankyou sambit and rupsha!)

- made the first move(ish)
-spent ten days all on my own 

- read asimov, watched Monty Python, listened to tom waits- yes these are significant enough to be listed

- gotten into the blues (thankyou neelu)

- made a lot of new friends with much confidence, without letting my previous awkwardness get in the way

- explored cal on foot, thoroughly

- behaved like a completely irrational sap, bid goodbye to my ego

- written exams without driving myself into blind panic about them

- cooked, started cooking properly- i made soup guys! chicken noodle soup from scratch!

- lost a whole ton of weight, gone on a proper running routine, done that whole thing where you wake up at 5:30 am to go for a morning run before you start your day

- gone on a proper diet for like 2 months- it worked too; then i became happy and lazy

- wanted to do things i hadn't wanted to before, and liked em

-  visited sodpur (lol?)

- gotten my first vacation in three years (existential fear factor, yes)

- long distance

- worked at an ngo with the children of sex-workers

- gotten into a scuffle with er..metro police?

- been awarded a scholarship

-gotten three job offers- one at a major toronto hospital, two at harvard (yes i'm gloating)

- watched Dylan and Knopfler live. I can't say enough about this so I won't say anything at all.

- had a lot of epiphanies

- started the process of coming to terms with the fact that I'm not a terrible person. self-love, self-love, self-love.

- torn a ligament, passed out, called 911, been taken to emergency in an ambulance

- got stung by a wasp

-started a secretblog, and a shared musicblog

-started liking beer

-did a photoshoot

2. Did you keep your new years resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

Well, I did lose weight (and then gained most of it back), and eat healthy and cook lots (and then start eating trash again), and become focused on my academics. So I guess sort've? My new resolution is to stick to my resolutions.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

Not that I know of.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

Yeah. Not emotionally I guess, but physically? And mentally.

5. What countries did you visit?

Canada, India. Same as last year.

6. What would you like to have in 2013 that you lacked in 2012?

Published papers, a significant involvement in research I love, a 4.2. More: kindness,  balance, travelling, concerts, writing, self-love.

Wishful thinking: My voice back, my boyfriend in the same place. 

7. What date from 2012 will remain etched upon your memory and why?

- Feb 14th- the night R.B died and I balanced a stupid plate of dal on my hand

- April 23rd- the night I landed in Calcutta, seeing Trisha, Adi, and Piu at the airport and finally believing that I was back home

- July 17th- cuz N finally reached the end of his rational thought process

- August 7th- cuz it was a new birthday to put on the list of donotforget. And it was a nice time

- Sep 11th- cuz I dreaded it for so long, and then it came and I left

- November 14th- because I watched Dylan and Knopfler live and it was indescribable

- October 26th- cuz rankings came out and I went out with a bang, just like I wanted
And a great many days whose dates I do not remember, but whose contents I definitely will.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

- Doing major amounts of growing up

- Surviving Winter term long enough to drag my arse home where thankfully summer happened

- Bagging three job offers

- Getting on Dean's Honour Roll, and excellent standing

- Keeping my promise to myself to write all of my exams this term

- Somehow managing not to screw up hobo and crazy thus far

- Letting myself be vulnerable

9. What was your biggest failure?

Winter term in a way.
Oh, I got so distracted and happy that I failed my non-credit PD course. And forgot to contact that prof for research. Ohwell.

Losing my temper too often at my family. Falling off course with the diet and eating healthy and running.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

I tore a ligament right before finals week. And I got a nasty bout of flu during reading week. And I got stung by a wasp.

11. What was the best thing you bought?
Tickets to the Dylan-Knopfler concert. 

12. Whose behaviour merited celebration?

Mine for going after the things I wanted and getting allofem =D

Squg for being dignified and a lady in a very old world sense of the term. For being a bundle of goodness and joy.

Neelu for dealing with all my crazy.

Piu for unconditional support, and for finding her way and getting her act together. Trisha for being the fiercely loyal and kickass person she is.

Emily for being the wonderful generous person she is.

13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?

Er. I don't want to say.

14. Where did most of your money go?

Eating out =( I gave Burger King, Mozy's and Tim Horton's LOTS of steady business.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

Going home for the summer. Neelu. The job I got offered at Princess Margaret. Harvard and Boston. Sambit's farewell. New Light. The Dylan-Knopfler concert.

16. What song will always remind you of 2012?

Sweet thing- The Waterboys/Van Morrison. So far away, What it is- Knopfler. Bird on a wire- Bonamassa's cover of Cohen. So long Marianne- Cohen. Gun street girl, Hold on- Waits.  Waits in general. I want you, You're gonna make me lonesome when you go, All along the watchtower, Like a rolling stone- Dylan. Womaniya, Moora. Sittin' on top of the world. Heroin- VU. Pine moon- Feist. Bloom- The Paper Kites. I saw her standing there, Someday(heh)- the Beatles. Wagon wheel- Old Crow Medicine Show. Drift away- Dobie gray. Lover you should've come over- Buckley.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you happier or sadder?’

Last year this time I was in Toronto, it was a very nice time, and I was quite happy. This year I'm alone in ghost town for the next two weeks. Overall however, 2012 has been unbelievable, in terms of the incredible things it has brought me. So happier, I guess. And very, very grateful.

18. Thinner or fatter?
Slightly thinner.

19. What do you wish you'd done more of?

Spending more time with the grandparents, brother. Reading. Making out. Running. Cooking.

20. What do you wish you'd done less of?

Eating junk, brooding over things, procrastinating, taking out my temper on my fam cuz it was easy

21. How will you be spending Christmas?

I will try to find a church to haunt. I will bring back spiced eggnog and a shawarma. I will watch a movie and read Lord of the Rings and go to bed.

22. Did you fall in love in 2012?

H, L and S.

23. How many one night stands?

None.

24. What was your favourite TV programme?

I don't watch TV. Gilmore Girls, I guess. And Criminal Minds.

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?
No. Hate is tiring. And I can't hold grudges.

26. What was the best book you read?

Good Omens, I think. It was a lifesaver on the plane back. I just started LOTR so anticipation. Kafka on the Shore. The Great Indian Novel.  Animal Farm.

27. What was your greatest musical discovery?

Oh man. 2012's been a brilliant year as far as musical discoveries are concerned. A large part of this has to do with Neelu. All the blues stuff. Right now I'm really loving John Hammond and JJ Cale. In general, my absolute new favourite is Tom Waits. Listened to a lot of Cohen and Dylan for extensive periods of time. Knopfler in a big way, and Knopfler himself is responsible for this :D

The Velvet Underground whom I absolutely loved. I listened to lots of the Beatles as usual. Tallest Man on Earth. Jefferson Airplane. Bonamassa. The Grateful Dead, whom I still have to listen to a lot more of. Jeff Buckley!

28. What did you want and get?

Love.

Happiness.

A good GPA and job offers and Harvard.

29. What did you want and not get?

Nothing. I got everything I wanted.

30. What was your favourite film of this year?

In theatre? Gangs of Wasseypur.

I fell in love with Woody Allen, Annie Hall in particular- those lobsters kill me. Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Life of Brian.

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

It's coming up on the 30th. I'm alone in ghost town right now. I'll wake up, talk to people, eat something, read something, watch something. Might go to Symposium and buy myself cake. Byas.

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Nothing. I got everything I wanted, and more. Well, being able to go home for the winter would have been nice, but that's just greediness. And having N closer would've been great, but that's more greediness.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2012?
Rushed? 

34. What kept you sane?

People- Ma, Trisha, Piu, Mishtu, Squg, Shalmi, Emily, Neelu. Blogging. Reese's. 8tracks.

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Er... Tom Waits?

36. What political issue stirred you the most?
Rape. Sigh.

37. Who was the worst new person you met?
Stupid new bitch roommate.

38. Who was the best new person you met?
Upasana whom I'd technically met before but I really got to know her this year. Sattam. Amrusha. Pratiti. Shibansu. Tanuka (whom I technically haven't met yet). Neelu.

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learnt in 2012.

Only worry about one thing at a time. Take life one moment at a time.

If you want something, go after it. Stop being passive. Go out and grab what you want.

All that self-love bullshit isn't bullshit.

Making soup is easy.

I have an infinite capacity to surprise myself.

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.

Hey, it's me, I'm dynamite

And I don't know why

But listen, in this story I have a guitar, yes, a guitar. I sling it over my shoulder and I have red hennaed hair. I have a gypsy skirt and we wander over hills, your hand tracing circles on mine. You look ahead and notice water, you point it out and we camp out for the night. But no, listen, in this story I call you 'love' and I still mean it- not in that casual way I fling out to people like Emily from class and the guy who emailed me his notes. But listen, in this story you never died. And there never were any guns. In this story I went to a shrink and they helped me come to terms with everything and calmed down my neuroses. In that other story I never had any problems to begin with. In this story you kissed me and your lips tasted of smoke, not carbonated water and sugar. In that other story we ran away and they never found us; we created a Moonrise Kingdom of our own. In my story there are no guns.

Biology is messing with my brain

If I try to doodle hearts I wind up drawing several together and completely unthinkingly turn them into a composite amoeba. A little while ago I tried to doodle a flower. I found myself compelled to speckle cytoplasm granules in.
If I wasn't meant to be a scientist before, the last three years of undergrad have definitely ingrained scientist traits in me. In fact as I was typing traits, I involuntarily found the terms 'heritability', 'variance' and 'LOD score' floating around in my head. Welcome to the dark side. We have long nights spent in labs watching RNA dry and stacks of literature to read that never ever end.
In other news, I got my J1 Visa approved today and can finally announce that come January I will be headed to Boston (fuck yeah, no Canadian winter). I'm going to be interning at a stem cell research lab at Harvard Med School/ Brigham and Women's Hospital. 8 months in the U.S of A at the research lab of a scientist you can Wikipedia and shit. If I do have to be someone's office bitch/intern, I'm glad it's at Harvard. Lends it more legitimacy. Plus I hear that Boston is beautiful.
In unrelated news, I noticed today that Harvey's tagline is 'It's a beautiful thing'. This makes me chuckle for reasons I will not tell you. 

DON'T PANIC

I used to think I was some kind of Gypsy boy
Before I let you take me home.

Curiouser and curiouser how these things go. Ohwell.

Kill, kill

Long ago or yesterday, I had written you an epitaph. If I had been wiser, or as cynical and disillusioned as I thought I was, that would laid you to rest. It would have been beautiful and felt appropriate. But then you wouldn't have been able to do it yourself. Isn't it lovely how you fulfill the prophecies that I secretly made?
Lyrics bring emptiness, and I carry on with a longing that endures despite starvation. If asphyxiation was a feeling, this would be the opposite. 

We are a process unfolding

"The more basic the existential concept, the more unlikely it is that it is open to empirical verification or rejection. Is the universe indifferent to our hopes, dreams, and loves? Are each of us essentially alone and responsible for our own fate? When you come right down to it, is life meaningless except for whatever meanings we ourselves can invent?"

Dear Death and Dying course, I'm going to miss you.

SO MUCH COFFEE. MORE COFFEE. ALL THE COFFEE IN THE WORLD.

There is definitely more coffee than blood in my veins right now. But it's all good, amiright? You gaiz? Anyone? Credit to boyfriend for introducing me to Garfield minus Garfield.

In which I realize

how afraid I am to be happy. It's a realization that knocks softly, and quietly startles me each time. It's like back in high school where I was that annoying topper kid who would never say that a paper went well. I'd always go on and on about how I was certain I'd failed, and I wasn't really faking it or deliberately being an ass. It was just that I was too terrified to even articulate to myself that I might've given an okay paper because that would definitely jinx it. And so it goes in real life. Even if something's coming along nicely- an interview, a job a relationship, a friendship, whatever- I can rarely ever bring myself to say it. Everything must be downplayed, always. Always look on the dark side of life? Good lord, that's the worst thing I've ever heard. Dear brain, are you listening? It is a strange feeling to be living consciously, but that's what I'm trying to do these days. 2012 is turning me into an adult. It's all terribly unsettling.

White Rabbit

I cannot stop listening to Jefferson Airplane. How fantastic, how absolutely fucking fantastic. 'Surrealistic Pillow' is playing on Youtube, and I'm writing a term paper that I'm not hating (surprisingly). If only there weren't deadlines. If only I hadn't spent my weekend watching Woody Allen films and cooking chicken with lots of onions. Onions are my favourite ingredients when I'm doing the cooking. Onions and garlic. I can't stand onions raw, but the initial sautéing of onions gives off one of the very few smells that I can actually smell- the official term for lacking a sense of smell is anosmia- I don't actually know if I have it since I've never asked a doctor, but it certainly is true that my sense of smell leaves much to be desired.
I love the feeling of discovering a new favourite album, discovering that thing that you missed in something you'd vaguely heard before. The thought just struck me that this is true for people too. It's happened before with me.
All my favourites are old.

"I can but dance behind your smile
You were the world to me for a while"

Sometimes you don’t need anything or anyone else to be happy. Sometimes happiness has nothing to do with your future prospects, or the boy in your head, or those nights out you had. Sometimes happiness is just you walking home alone in the dark, with a warm apple cider in your hands and music in your ears at the end of an exhausting week. It’s the feeling that makes your heart skip for no reason at all as you step through piles of fall leaves, and feel the tip of your nose grow cold, as you breathe in the crisp cool air, and feel your cheeks get flushed. Sometimes happiness is just walking, tipping your head back to get the last few drops of your sweet sticky drink, and finding yourself looking up at a blue velvet sky full of stars. Sometimes happiness is deciding on a whim to walk around town and find that brilliant shawarma place you went to once, because you finally have time to waste, and because your legs want to keep moving.

Sometimes all you need to be happy is yourself. These times don’t come very often, but when they do, you think to yourself that this moment right here, is what I’ll remember about this term. You try to pin down content, but you don’t really, because contentment is when you feel like you’re floating high up there with the stars, like you’re enough. 

Strawberries on the Side

She came home after work one day

And decided that something was a little bit ‘off’

with her (metaphorical) heart-

because everyone knows, the heart has nothing to do with it really-

except for occasionally when you feel a tightness in your chest,

and even then it’s really the brain playing tricks on you

(sneaky brain).

She stared at herself in the mirror,

frowned,

and bit her lip.

She took her largest pair of scissors – the yellow ones with the chip on one side-

and cut her heart neatly out, with a trail of nerves and arteries dangling from it.

It was seeping crimson all over her brown rug

(It was her favourite rug).

She lay down some newspapers on the floor with care, to soak it all up

(she was a very tidy person).

She held it flat on the palm of her hand and surveyed it critically for a while.

It was warm, and flushed, and it dripped red down her fingers,

Creating a brown crisp covering in places.

She shook her head, and let out a deep breath,

An exasperated click of her teeth, and then she set efficiently to work.

She took that heart and she tossed it in the washer

(Luckily she had some loose change lying around- the machine was known for its exactitude)

She chopped some haricots, and carrots, and put them in to boil with the rice.

She also cleared up the newspapers and scrubbed the dried spots off the floor

(she was nothing, if not efficient).

Thirty minutes later, she retrieved the heart.

It was sopping wet, but a lot of the vessels had come loose, she noted with satisfaction.

She neatly snipped away the rest.

The heart looked almost translucent now.

She turned it over and inspected it for damage.

There wasn’t much- just one smallish hole

(and of course the gaping ones that had connected to the vessels).

She wrung the heart, squeezing out all the excess fluid.

She fancied she saw silvery things fall into the sink as she did this-

Spontaneity, warmth, vulnerability, affection-

but she hadn’t been sleeping very much these days.

She turned it over in her hands and noticed that it looked skinny-

what is a skinny heart, anyway?

She smiled to herself, and hung it out on the balcony.

A crow flew by and pecked at the hole.

It cocked its head to one side suspiciously, didn’t seem to deem it edible, and flew away.

She went off to take a shower, and got distracted by a phone call.

An extremely satisfying thirty minutes passed by, cursing the new girl at work, and the deadlines piling up.

She hung up, and suddenly remembered the heart.

It was dark outside, by now.

She retrieved the cold thing, and placed it on the dresser, while she laid the table for dinner.

Once she was done, she came back and looked at herself.

She did up her hair, fastening the tendrils in place with bobby pins.

She rummaged for the face she’d tossed carelessly aside a while ago
(She hadn't thought she'd need it again).

It was lying in an open carton by the balcony door amongst old birthday cards, raffia and cobwebs.

She dusted it clean, and pasted it back on, taking care not to catch her hair on the tape.

It looked beautiful and mysterious, and gleamed in the yellow light.

She looked at the heart- it seemed smaller somehow-

Like a deflated balloon.

When he came home, rolled up his sleeves, and sat down to dinner,

She chattered on about the funny thing that happened at work that day,

and that movie they had to see sometime soon.

For desert, she said she had something special.

She served him her low maintenance heart on a small white plate,

with fresh strawberries on the side.

He ate it while reading the paper,

with a strong coffee- black.

After he’d finished, he smiled and pushed the plate away.

“Delicious”, he said.

Late night reassurance

So there are these two articles of clothing I now own that have become the adult equivalent of a Blanky to me. One happens to be my Dada's old collared shirt that has become soft and beautifully shabby with age. It is blue and has white vertical stripes and a breast pocket. The collar is still a little stiff, a remnant of the times when Dada used to wear it to office, I suppose. It's absolutely huge for me- it comes down to a little above my knees, and my hands get swallowed up in the sleeves.
The second is this paati ganji I filched from my boyfriend on an impulse. It is literally innerwear, and I wear it at home on anxious nights, when I'm dreading looming deadlines and scary tasks ahead. Weirdly enough, it's a snug fit, despite the fact that the aforementioned boyfriend happens to be about a foot taller than me.

Anyway, so I have this exam tomorrow, and a general tense feeling in my shoulders. I did laundry a little while ago, and the ganji came out smelling of fabric softener, and warm from the dryer. Obviously I'm now wearing the ganji underneath the shirt (yes, it's cold enough to wear layers).
There's just something about knowing that the cloth that touches your skin now has touched theirs as well, at some point. It's a strange makeshift sort of intimacy that conjures up the safety you feel with someone you love.
In other news, I'm a sentimental fool. Possibly aged thirteen. Or sixty three.

*Dada is my paternal grampa who passed away when I was in the 9th grade.
**ganji means vest. I'm just not a fan of the word 'vest'.

Observations

1. The Byrds' cover of 'Mr. Tambourine Man' sounds like the stoned melting version of Dylan's. Sort of lazy trippy.

2. Things that have been bothering you cannot be wished away by ignoring them and will find an outlet somehow, no matter how mature you are.

3. Big name universities operate on the principle that everyone will be their bitch. They're generally correct in this assumption.

4. Men and women differ (leaving aside all obvious biological implications and the whole trans-gender identity issue). A lot of the cliches and stereotypes are true.

5. Smooth Reese's peanut butter cups are vastly superior to the crunchy variety.

6. People try to rationalize whatever path they have chosen as being the right and only way they could have chosen and will spend extensive amounts of time convincing themselves that they're good and doing the right thing. We spend the maximum amount of time justifying ourselves to ourselves (even if on the surface, we're explaining things to others).

7. The repercussions of the breakup of a friendship can be as painful and long drawn as those of the breakup of a romantic relationship.

8. People tend to remember who you are, and it is not always intelligent to assume that they've forgotten that they met you.

Warning: Navel-gazing in excess. The mopey sort, shoo.

I wish I could be happy, but I can't. I wish I didn't crave reassurance, but I do. I wish I didn't constantly find myself with my forehead already scrunched up, but there it is.
The only thing that makes me consistently happy, it seems- the only thing that has me going about everyday like an idiotic puppy- is impractical, inaccessible, transient, and unsustainable.

I find it hard to believe people, things, feelings, relationships. Every so often I catch myself going, "seriously, this is real?" in my head. Most of the time I cocoon this disbelief in routine, tell myself it's completely usual and not out-of-the-ordinary in the least. Defeat incredulity by reducing things, or at least normalizing them to the mundane. Maybe then I'll ground myself, and stop feeling like this is inevitably going to slip away, like it's half-unreal already.
I'm not sure why exactly there is this need to downplay things, but there it is. As soon as something happens, something awesome, there is a knee-jerk reaction to making it feel completely normal, instead of reveling in it. Is it about being cool? "Oh this doesn't faze me 'cuz I'm awesome"- who knows?
Life could be simple, it could. I feel empty. When I was little, I would wish I was a different person, with different problems and less of a destructive whirlpool for a brain. I would go to my tuition teacher's house and look at the brightly coloured family, eating pakoras and smiling big apple-cheeked smiles, and I would feel like an anomaly.
I was not made for distances, or the cold. Or stress. These are all things that I have embraced on my own. At the time I thought they'd take me somewhere better, at the time I thought it wasn't a tantrum. Most of the time, I still do. Part of the time, I drop the compulsion to look happy with my life, and act like a normal human being, and stare into this foggy path that is the future. I have no idea. I have no effing clue. What do I want? If only, I knew.
I cannot find my ambition anymore; all I feel is weary. All I want to do is let go, and rest my head on a shoulder for a while, without feeling guilty about being unproductive. I cannot remember the last time I did that- not for the last 3 years, at least. My wants are changing, my desires are changing, my plans are becoming less clear. I'm not entirely certain at this point whether this is weakness, and me being pathetic, or tiredness and me being weary, or simply me growing up. The thing is, I hadn't taken emotions into account.

What is this about? Far too many things, all of which are a tangle in my head, and a knot in my stomach. What am I going to do about it, you ask? Well, right now, I'm going to procrastinate on my lab and a couple of calm-upsetting emails, and go make some chicken-noodle soup.

This summer I discovered in myself a propensity for hedonism and happy contentment. This seems to be carrying forward into real life. Quite alarming. 

The way you say "The fuck?" is endearing to me. It plays in my head sometimes. 

Calibri

I am your

one note song.

I am ugly,

but devoted.

Like a mole,

I try very hard to dig deep

Into the darkest recesses of your heart.

One day, I will plant a seed there,

Kick up my hind legs and drown it in mud.

A time will come

When you will wake up on a Sunday,

wander to the kitchen,

and stand there a minute, blinking and thinking of eggs.

Crisp toast and runny yellow.

You will look out at the bright blue

and suddenly feel a sharp twist

in the centre of your gut.

It is not, as you would be prone to believe-

hunger.

It is a funnyfeeling.

It belongs to the witchery inside your head.

A word will bubble through to the surface.

Clear, and plain.

Like Calibri.

And you’ll think,

Oh.

I went running today. The blood thudding in your ears, the breath that comes out heavily through your nose, the strands of hair that come loose from your tightly put together ponytail- bring with them a certain kind of magic. I left with the semi permanent crease in between my eyebrows, thinking about my massive to-do list, and the insecurities galore that inevitably creep up on me most days. I ran for around forty five minutes and wandered into completely unknown territory. I came across a certain Sugarbush Park, a bunch of goose-shit, a decomposing squirrel(?), and some very red leaves. When all your concentration is focused on just breathing, and ignoring that stitch in your side, and just getting to the next bus stop, and the next, and the next... it leaves very little scope for thinking. I blanked out blissfully for the most part. The stray annoyances from my day wandered into my head, but the sound of my footsteps chased them away.
I came home panting, red-faced, with aching legs, and happy.

The Food Alphabet with Writers

Longtime readers of this blog will know that I blog only about events of a personal nature. Occasional fiction. General wonderings. The contemporary events, and matters of deep cultural significance are what I skip writing about, simply because I don't think I can write about them with as much coherence as they deserve. These are saved for mulling over with friends accompanied by endless cups of chaa, or rants over the phone to the mater- but essentially they don't turn up here.
Things that do turn up here would be brethren of this. And of course, there is the lifeisadarkabyss emo-ness.

Children broadripple is burning
And the girls are getting sick
Off huffin' glue up in the bathroom
While their boyfriends pick up chicks

And darling, I'm lost, I heard you whispering
That night in Fountain Square
The trash-filled streets made me wish
We were headed home

And there was love inside the basement
Where that woman used to lie
In a sleeping bag we shared
Upon the floor most every night

And darling, I'm drunk
And everything that I have loved has turned to stone
So pack your bags and come back home

And I'm wasted, you can taste it
Don't look at me that way
'Cause I'll be hanging from a rope
I will haunt you like a ghost

And if my woman was a fire
She'd burn out before I wake
And be replaced by pints of whiskey
Cigarettes and outer space

Then somebody moves
And everything you thought you had to go to shit
But we've got a lot, don't ever forget that

And I wrote this on an airplane
Where the people looks like eggs
And when a woman that you loved is gone
She was bombing east Japan

And don't fucking move
'Cause everything you thought you had to go to shit
We've got a lot, don't you dare forget that

And I'm wasted, you can taste it
Don't look at me that way
'Cause I'll be hanging from a rope
I will haunt you like a ghost

- Broadripple is Burning - Margot and the Nuclear So and So's

"Ah but you got away, didn't you babe,
you just turned your back on the crowd,
you got away, I never once heard you say,
I need you, I don't need you,
I need you, I don't need you
and all of that jiving around."

Today is a Chelsea Hotel kinda day. Lie around with a few irrepressible toes sticking out of the blanket. Trace circles on the back of your hand. Begin to think about forgetting. Goodbyes don't always come with a warning, do they? Sometimes they sneak in quietly while you're halfway through a sentence you've forgotten to finish. They slip their hand into yours and whisper, soft as a sigh.

Of talking cats and contradictions

If anyone happens to be feeling particularly fond of me, this is what they should get me:

A General Theory of Love by psychiatrists Lewis, Amini and Lannon which explains why the Beatles might not have been too far off the mark when they said that "All you need is love". Psychology, neurobiology and the human condition have got to be three of my favourite things.

I just finished reading Kafka On The Shore by Murakami, and suddenly everything seems a little unreal, a little far off. There is a Satya Narayan puja at my house later today and oddly enough, I'm no longer annoyed about it. Murakami does strange things to me. Y'know, the book is beautiful, surreal, interesting, strange, full of cats- everything you'd expect from a Murakami, but the end sort of left me in the lurch. So there's this boy and he goes on a journey, meets all these people, their lives intersect in ways they're unaware of, making ripples in other's lives and yadda yadda yadda but so What? Nothing is explained, nothing is really resolved, and I guess that bugs me. Sort've in a what's the point kind've way. But I guess that's life. Fluid and elusive and more often than not, episodes have no real conclusion or closure. Frames gently shift and things merge into one another till before you know it, some things have been completely purged from your life and  you can't even begin to remember a birthday. When I was young(er) and stupid(er), this thought would often drive me to gloom- the fact that life goes on, and feelings change and nothing can really ever be pinned down and known with absolute certainty. These days it bugs me less. You begin to see the beauty in change, and the shifting patterns. There's a wonder in not knowing, and finding out. There's also such beauty in familiarity, and solid ground, and in starting to take certain things for granted.

How can something so transient seem so permanent? The thing is, potential. I flew south for the summer, and like Mr. Nakata said, (and Colonel Sanders, yes) what's been opened must be closed. Things have to be put right. But I bruise easy, it seems.

I haven't been able to write lately because my thoughts are too full of one thing for me to say anything of much consequence. So I've been reading a lot instead. Reading, and stumbling into the lives of whorebabies, and er, working out. I'm trying to be gentler these days. The more I circle the sun, the more I begin to value kindness in others. The more I keep realizing in this sort of panic, that I don't have much time. I mean, literally speaking this summer has been very Endless Numbered Days, but even beyond that, just life y'know? My room-mate died earlier this year and while it plunged me into depression for a bit, and reminded me of exactly how fleeting and utterly senseless life can be, it wasn't really life-changing in terms of my whole attitude towards life. I didn't sell my metaphorical ferrari or - actually, I semi take that back. It set off a train of events that have been interesting and unpredictable.

This post is full of contradictions and faulty grammar, but life is full of paradoxes so you'll just have to deal with it. I have however, scattered interesting links throughout so hopefully that makes up for it.

I will leave you with this list of books on music and the brain from a site that I love very much. If you're feeling unaccountably fond of me....you know what to do.
Also, this passage from Kafka on the Shore:

“According to Aristophanes in Plato's The Banquet, in the ancient world of legend there were three types of people", Oshima says. "Have you heard about this?" 

"No"

"In ancient times people weren't simply male or female, but one of three types : male/male, male/female or female/female. In other words, each person was made out of the components of two people. Everyone was happy with this arrangment and never really gave it much thought. But then God took a knife and cut everyone in half, right down the middle. So after that the world was divided just into male and female, the upshot being that people spend their time running around trying to locate their missing half.”

I liked Oshima. He was a very interesting character. While talking about why he likes to listen to Schubert while driving: But listening to the D major, I can feel the limits of what humans are capable of- that a  certain type of perfection can only be realized through limitless accumulation of the imperfect. And personally, I find that encouraging.

you are a bad idea come to life. i have wrapped you up in rainy days and soft blankets, and dressed you up in summer. you smell of smoke and taste of happiness; you are not mine to keep. you are the fun mistake i wished for at the start of this year. comfort, and laughter, and unexpected warmth. you are an impulse i don't regret. it has been a long time, and the first time. i'm spinning, i think. 

There is definitely way too much oxytocin in my brain right now. I didn't ask for this. It just happened. The part of my brain that isn't drowning in it keeps flipping between Ohshit and Ohwell. Hello crazyperson. JUST Keep calm and murder everyone.
Look, here's a song.

And a picture of zombies.

Happy birthday, you loon.